


trust me, mister agent (my papers are fine)

by lethargicProfessor



Category: Agent Carter (Marvel Short Film), Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Founding of SHIELD, Gen, Howard Stark - Freeform, Post Agent Carter season 2, oc agents - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicProfessor/pseuds/lethargicProfessor
Summary: Howard Stark is a thorn in Jack Thompson's side, especially when he kidnaps one of his best agents at every given opportunity.(But he has to admit, the guy isn't half bad sometimes.)-The founding of SHIELD, and the recruitment stage of starting a new agency.
Relationships: Peggy Carter & Howard Stark, Peggy Carter & Jack Thompson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	trust me, mister agent (my papers are fine)

The first time Howard Stark waltzes into the secure SSR building unannounced, half the agents have their guns out and trained before he can even smile.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t try, raising an eyebrow at the agents as if he doesn’t know why they’re riled up. “Is this any way to greet a friend?”

“You assume we’re friends,” Thompson says, though after a minute he waves the agents down. Stark is a nut, but he’s proven he’s on their side.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” Stark snaps back, breezing through the entryway towards Carter. She gives him a bemused look, but seems as resigned as Thompson when Stark takes her hand and hauls her out of her desk. “I'm borrowing Peg, if anyone has any complaints feel free to send them to my secretary.”

“Howard, leave the poor girl alone, she has enough to deal with as is,” Carter admonishes, but lets herself be carted away. There’s not a doubt in anyone’s mind that she could get out of it if she wanted to, but she probably knows better than to fight Stark when he’s in one of his moods.

Just as fast as he came in, he’s gone with Carter in tow, leaving behind the faint waft of too-expensive cologne and motor oil.

“Should we have tried to stop him?” Sousa asks. The agents all turn to stare at Thompson, and not for the first time he regrets being the guy in charge.

“If you wanna have a go at him, be my guest.” 

Carter returns just as half the agents are getting ready to leave, not a hair out of place with a shiner right on her jaw. She sets a file down on Thompson’s desk and grins, though it looks more like a grimace with the swelling on her face.

“You might want to look into that,” she says, all smiles as she breezes by a startled Sousa to gather her things. “Have a good night, gentlemen.”

The file’s perfect, ‘cause Marge ain’t a slouch when it comes to her reports, and all Thompson can do is toss it on someone’s desk to handle in the morning.

“I’m not getting paid enough for this,” he tells Sousa, who has the gall to laugh.

* * *

It becomes a habit after that, Stark marching through the office like he owns the damn place, taking Carter and leaving. Jack’s tempted to step in multiple times; Marge is one of his best, if he has to reluctantly admit it, and losing her means losing one of the good ones whenever there’s a stumper out in the bullpen.

She must have seen something though, or heard something from someone, because the next time Stark shows up he does so with full catering and the promise of more if it gets them to quit their bitching.

“Why don’t we have this guy working for us again?” Sousa asks, tucking into a steak for lunch while his deli order remains uneaten at his desk.

“Because he’s an ass and we don’t want his dirty money,” Thompson says, though without feeling, because Stark may be an ass, but he has damn good taste. He hasn’t had dinner so good since he was still living with his folks, and he can’t say he doesn’t miss it.

Rodriguez pauses from his meal mid-chew, turning to look at Thompson. “Is this a bribe, boss?”

“It’s not a bribe,” Thompson hisses, though now more agents are looking less enamored with their food. “It’s payment for stealing Carter all the damn time.”

“Maybe he should do it more often,” Chang, one of the newbies, says, and gets a roll chucked at his head for saying what they’re all thinking.

It really is a damn good steak, and even as the chief of the SSR his salary isn’t _that_ good.

* * *

It’s an earlier morning than usual when Stark wanders in, coffee in one hand and a stack of files under one arm. Jack eyes him with a tired acceptance, straightening up in his seat to at least pretend he’s professional. “You’re up early, Stark. What, your dame of the day bail on you?”

“If you didn’t say crap like that, I’d introduce you to some,” Stark shoots back, setting the coffee at Peggy’s desk with a grin before weaving through the office towards… him.

There’s a brief flare of panic that Jack knows Stark can see, but he tamps it down, frowning as the stack of files thump on his desk. “What’s this?”

“Professional courtesy.” He spins on the balls of his feet to slam his office door shut with gusto, and pulls out a little doohickey from his pocket while Jack starts to comb through the files.

Rodriguez. Chang. McCoy, Grimley, Sousa, Carter…Thompson.

Jack leans back in his seat, watching Stark wave his little contraption around the place. “Stark, why the hell do you have personnel files--”

“Ah! Bup, bup, bup!” Stark shuts him up with a dismissive hand gesture, combing the machine in his hands across his lampshade and pulling out a...something in the process. He gleefully opens a compartment in the box and tosses the little thing in. “Had to make sure no one else was listening first.”

It’s too damn early for this kind of nonsense. Jack stares at Stark incomprehensibly even as his hand drifts towards the desk drawer with the booze in it. “Was that a fucking bug in my office?”

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s probably not a bad guy’s bug.” Stark shrugs, and comfortable now that he’s sure they’re not being listened in on, drapes himself dramatically on the chair opposite Jack. “Still, don’t think I’d want them to hear this.”

Jack pours himself more whiskey than he knows he should, and slides a glass to Stark for good measure. “What the fuck is going on?”

Stark straightens up, more serious than Jack has ever seen him. “Like I said. Professional courtesy. The SSR is compromised, we think.”

“Comprom--?” Jack can’t even wrap his head around the thought before his eyes drift to the files. “You think we’re--?”

“Easy, pal, you’re getting ahead of me.” Stark’s mouth quirks into a faint grin as he pats the files on Jack’s desk. “These are the confirmed good eggs, if you wanna call it that. Everyone else out there I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw them, which isn’t very far anyways.”

“You’re joking.” This can’t be happening, not again. Jack had been making sure he wasn’t going to follow into Dooley’s footsteps, he was aware and he was paying attention and keeping an eye out for signs and--

Stark waves a hand in front of Jack’s face, clearly amused. “You’re gonna be such a pain in the ass, Thompson, I can’t wait.”

“Shut up.” Jack snaps, and takes a swig of whiskey before composing himself. “Start talking.”

“It’s pretty simple.” Stark takes a slow drink from his glass, fingers tapping against the side absently. “It’s not just the SSR, but we think this is where they’re gonna take over first. Easiest way to take control is through intelligence, security, this kinda stuff.”

“They?” Jack echoes.

“The Reds. Leviathan. The Council of Nine. Hydra.” Stark shrugs, flipping open Carter’s file towards the end, where the familiar Hydra emblem stands stark against the white paper. “It’s like it’s a secret society of assholes.”

Jack snorts despite himself, feeling a pain being to form at his temples. “Cut one head off, right?”

“Except even Hydra is just one head of the whole damn thing instead of the actual body.” Clearing his throat, Stark shuts the file. “Point is, Peggy’s been helping me track down some of these heads. And before you complain,” he raises a hand even as Jack opens his mouth. “We knew someone in the SSR or with connections was compromised from the get-go.”

“You had to see who was clean before you could share with the rest of the class.” Jack wants to fault it, because if something had gone wrong it would have been his head on the chopping block instead of Carter’s, but he can’t say he wouldn’t do the same thing if he was in their shoes.

Stark seems to realize it too, relaxing in his seat. “While Peg’s been doing her agent thing, I’ve been pulling strings on my end too. I’ve got enough pull in the government now that if I wanted, I could start my own agency. One that we know is clean, meant to actually do some good instead of being beholden to the other alphabet soup agencies.”

Jack lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he was holding, finishing the last of his drink with a hiss. “Professional courtesy… you’re letting the rats know it’s time to jump ship?”

“Only the good ones.” Stark grins, though he seems exhausted at the thought. “It won’t be easy, but Peg trusts you, and the folks in these files, and I trust her.”

“I’m flattered,” Jack drones, but he almost means it.

With a laugh, Stark stands, gathering his files off Jack’s desk. “If you don’t mind working under her? I think you’ll do alright with our little group.”

The thought of not being in charge actually lifts his mood a bit, and Jack raises an eyebrow before glancing out the window into the bullpen. Peggy’s still at her desk working, but there’s a bounce in her curls. If she was reading his lips, he’s gonna riot.

“You got a name for your secret agent clubhouse yet?” Jack asks instead, stowing away the glasses and the whiskey in his drawer.

“We’re workshopping it, but I think it’s good.” Stark whistles a little tune, grabbing the door handle as he shoots Jack a wink. “We’ll be happy to welcome you to S.H.I.E.L.D when you’re ready, Thompson.”

“Get out of my office, Stark.” 

He watches Stark meander back towards Peggy, and Jack gives her a shrug that might just be a nod if someone were to squint real hard when she glances over at him.

She smiles and raises her coffee mug at him in return before Stark makes motions to drag her away again. If she’s really gonna be in charge, he doesn’t envy her one bit.

Jack Thompson sighs, though it’s fond, and starts figuring out what to put in his resignation letter. 


End file.
